


Down to Dirty Socks

by rahnekat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:52:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahnekat/pseuds/rahnekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is ready to tell his dad the Big Secret, but there may have been a miscommunication with Derek about the method.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down to Dirty Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gorgeous Nerd (gorgeousnerd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gorgeousnerd/gifts).



> A Christmas gift for my fandom partner-in-crime, Gorgeous Nerd. Also my first time posting to AO3. Yay!

John Stilinski had a three part plan for his rare Sunday off. Step One involved having a quiet house to lounge around and unwind. That was easily accomplished. Stiles had taken off earlier, extremely twitchy and avoiding John's eyes as he went. John wanted to ask where he was going, but it was still pretty early on a Sunday and he suspected it had something to do with whatever Stiles was entangled with. He was concerned, but he wanted to avoid Stiles lying to him again today if he could help it. His son's secrets weren't conducive to relaxing after all.

Anyway, Step One was taken care of. One empty house available for however long John felt like relaxing, and John slouching down in the recliner in the living room in his ratty old police academy sweats.

Step Two involved having a few nice cold beers. Since John knew he wouldn't want to get up more than necessary once the hardcore relaxing started, he'd dragged an ice chest containing a six pack next to his recliner. He had draped a blanket over the ice chest to hide it in case Stiles came home early. Stiles had been extra concerned about John drinking lately, but a lazy Sunday without a couple of brews just wasn't worth it. John figured he was allowed to indulge slightly since he'd skipped his normal fried snack foods for celery sticks.

Step Three of the Sunday plan was to watch the 49ers game as it aired, a luxury John hadn't been able to indulge in in months. The animal attacks and Matt Daehler's revenge spree had put a damper on John working his normal shift, so he hadn't been able to be home to watch most of the football season. That was going to change now that John had a day off when a game was on.

That was the plan anyway. However, Step Three was currently being hindered by a murderous looking person of interest standing in front of the TV, taking off his shirt.

It was probably a sign of how overworked and under-rested John was that his first response to Derek Hale suddenly appearing in his living room wasn't going for his room, where his service pistol spent his off-duty hours in a gun safe. No, his first response was to gape as Derek's eyebrows creeped closer together and lower on his face as Derek pulled his grey t-shirt over his head and threw it alarmingly close to John's head. The shirt caught the end of the recliner at John's eye level and fell to the floor. Derek's hands went to the button on his jeans.

John shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "Son, just don't."

Derek paused with the button of his jeans open and the zipper of his fly halfway down. John wasn't entirely sure, but he suspected this was the result of a minor prank war occurring at the station. Tensions were high at the Beacon County Sheriff's Department following the animal attacks and Daehler's attack on the station. John had been forced to hire a bunch of kids fresh from training to fill the vacant positions as no one else was desperate enough to work under the current conditions. John couldn't blame them. If he hadn't been reinstated as Sheriff, he'd have a hard time making himself look for work at a place where an entire shift of deputies had been brutally clawed up by whatever rabid dog Daehler had had with him.

The prank war was the unsurprising fallout of combining a handful of fresh recruits, a bunch of edgy and overworked veterans, and an underlying current of repressed panic at work. The established deputies tried to lighten the mood by playing harmless little jokes on the new kids, and once the kids became more confident in their positions, they started playing back. John knew he should have put a stop to it, but no one was getting hurt physically or emotionally and it seemed to improve the mood at the station. He just ended up refraining from it altogether.

However, he didn't expect that the prank war would extend far enough to get someone to hire an irritable and laconic former murder suspect that John had personally arrested to strip for a man who hadn't even been participating in the mischief.

"I'm going to skip all the questions I have for you, for the sake of my sanity. I don't know who hired you, but I will pay you twice whatever they did if you will just put your clothes back on and leave," John told Derek.

Derek crossed arms over his chest. John would think the move was angry and defensive, but Derek's eyebrows lowered further and the right one twitched up in confusion. John was slightly jealous because even though he'd tried a lot when he was younger, he just could move his eyebrows independently of each other. Maybe Derek having an abundance of eyebrow helped the situation.

"I wasn't hired. I don't..." Derek trailed off, head now cocked to one side. John thought he was doing a fairly good impression of a puzzled puppy.

The front door slammed loudly, causing John to jump slightly. Derek seemed rather unaffected, though he moved from crossed arms to putting his hands on his hips slightly above where his jeans were slouching down and turned to look at the entrance to the living room. A second later, Stiles came running around the corner, flailing his arms frantically.

"Wait, Derek! I haven't -- oh." Stiles skidded to a stop with one last flail as he took in the tableau in his living room.

John could admit it probably looked pretty bad to an outsider. He was dressed in threadbare sweats with a half-naked man looming over the foot of his recliner. Plus John had just noticed that Derek's jeans had slipped even further down his narrow hips, revealing snug black briefs. Derek might as well be wearing a Speedo under his jeans for all his briefs were hiding right then.

Stiles had apparently also noticed Derek's lack of clothing, as he was staring at Derek's hip level with his mouth hanging open.

"Stiles," Derek said. He got no response, so Derek had to repeat Stiles's name a couple of times, growlier each time, to get him back into the conversation.

"Right. I haven't told him yet, Derek. And why are you..." Stiles ended the question with a handwave encompassing Derek's whole body.

"You said he'd want proof." Derek crossed him arms over his chest again and briefly glanced at John, expression unreadable. "I was going to show him."

John didn't want to know what proof Derek was going to show him. He was putting the brakes on this right here, right now.

"No. Just no. I don't know why Stiles wants you here, Derek, but I'm pretty sure the striptease isn't necessary." Out of the corner of his eye, John could see Stiles mouth the word 'striptease' with a wondering expression. Good to know that neither the deputies at BCSD nor Stiles had thought it'd be a good idea to hire him a male stripper. One possibility down. John just didn't know how to broach the only other possibility he could think of. "Son, I know you said we needed to talk when I caught you outside of Jungle that one time, but I don't think I need visual aids for you coming out."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! That's not the conversation we're having right now, Dad." Stiles rounded on Derek. "I get why he'd think that. Dude, those are some seriously tiny briefs you're rocking there, and why do you have them visible in front of my dad?!"

Derek moved back slightly from Stiles's wildly gesturing hands. "I was going to show him."

"You said that already. I thought you would just be-" Stiles cut himself off to make a grimacing face with bared teeth that John couldn't understand the meaning of. Derek seemed to, since he rolled his eyes at Stiles.

"I thought the Alpha form would be harder to deny."

"Alpha?" John asked. He wasn't sure he liked where this was headed. Maybe he had a one-track mind where his teenage son's interests were concerned, but he still couldn't think of anything Stiles would need to tell him, with naked male backup, including the word Alpha, that didn't somehow have to do with something sexual his son was too young to be involved in.

"Um, yeah, dead." Stiles shrugged kinda weakly. "Alpha. As in werewolves."

John wanted to scoff, but he just noticed that Derek's eyes had changed color. Instead of the blue-green-brown hazel they'd been previously, they were now glowing red. John looked at Derek's eyes, to where Stiles was slightly hunched in his hoodie, back to Derek, then down to the beer that was rapidly warming in his hand. He sighed.

"I think I need a stronger drink."


End file.
